


An Affinity for Wolves

by Elusive_psyche



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, Game Spoilers, Gen, Solas can be kind of a dick, Trespasser DLC spoilers, but she changes everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:26:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elusive_psyche/pseuds/Elusive_psyche
Summary: Lira Lavellan left behind many secrets when she left her clan to spy at the Conclave, but she did manage to bring one along for the ride.  The last thing this solitary elf expected was to be caught up in a war for the fate of Thedas, dodging figurative and literal swords at every turn, raised up as the Herald of Andraste and deciding the fates of nations.  With the help of some new friends she may just save the day…but is an even greater threat closer to her heart than she realizes?This story is a retelling of the events of Dragon Age Inquisition, with a few liberties taken here and there with timelines, etc.  There will also be an original character of my own added to the tale.  It's not much of a speaking part so don't expect any major plot changes, though there are plenty of new surprises to look forward to.  This will be a long tale to tell, thank you to anyone willing to come along for the ride!





	1. Haven

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've ever written lol, so I'm sorry if it sucks! The first few chapters, leading up to and including the rift at the temple and fight with the pride demon, will be from Solas's POV. The chapters following will alternate between Lira and Solas, depending on whose perspective I want to explore at the time. Also, sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors you might find!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction so sorry if it sucks haha :P. Thanks for reading!

_"Let me go!!!"_

Lira arched her back, straining impotently against the hands pinning her wrists to the tree behind her.  His arms didn't move an inch for all of her struggling, and she tried not to let her panic show as she met his steely blue gaze.

"You must think me a fool," he said calmly. "If I release you then you'll only try to kill me again."  Deftly maneuvering his fingers, he twisted the bones in her left hand until she gasped and dropped the dagger she'd been clutching.

"Damn you!" The panic was there now, tremulous in Lira's voice as tears sprung to her eyes at the pain radiating down her arm.  "Just get it over with already!"

Cocking his head to the side, he addressed her with an almost indifferent air.  "I am afraid that I haven't the slightest idea what you're babbling about.  You're the one who came after me like some hysterical mad-woman.  Just what, exactly, is it that am I supposed to be doing?"

"I know who you are, _Solas_ ," she hissed through gritted teeth.  He stilled.  The anchor flared in her palm, casting his face in the green glow of the void, and Lira didn't miss the way his gaze flickered hungrily towards her hand, his fingers curling slightly tighter around her. 

"And I know what you want." 

His face was inches from her own, body pressed against hers, and she knew that he must feel her frantic heartbeat through the thin layers of cloth between them.  A rivulet of blood from the shallow cut on his throat made its way down his pale flesh, and she watched as it met the fabric and disappeared into it, a small explosive bloom of red against cream.

He shook his head, clearly unwilling to give up the façade.  "All I want is to continue on my way unimpeded.  If I let you go do you promise not to attack me again?  I must warn you, I will not be gentle with you next time." 

For a split second she almost believed his words, and she found herself searching his eyes for a hint of honesty; some subtle sign that she could trust him.  _Fool_ , she thought to herself, _of course he's deceiving you.  That's what he DOES._

Nodding her acquiescence, she willed her muscles to relax as he released her.  They scrutinized each other warily, his eyes never leaving hers as he put his hands up in a pacifying motion, stepping backwards away from her.  It was only as he moved to turn away that she saw what approached behind him- a massive wolf, head coming to Solas's chest, legs a blur as it barreled towards him.  The wolf lunged, catching the elf before he had a chance to reach for his staff, and Lira only had time to scream.

 

"FEN'HAREL!!!"

 

* * *

 

_Three days earlier…_

Solas followed the human woman, her short dark hair bobbing in and out of the frenzied crowd ahead of him.  Haven was in chaos.  The explosion at the Conclave had thrown the small village into total disarray, with people pushing and shoving to get by.  Makeshift pallets had been erected in any available space to tend to the wounded, and it was here that Solas caught up to the Seeker as she stopped to speak to one of the injured men.

"There are...too many…" His voice rattled weakly from the cot and Cassandra knelt down to hear him better.

"How far have they spread?  Is the forward camp still holding?"

"The…camp…still stands.  I don't know…how long..."

Cassandra turned to Solas.  "See if you can find some water for him."  He did as she bade, filling a skin from his own pack at one of the water barrels nearby before returning to help lift the man's head to drink as the Seeker held the skin to the soldier's lips.  He gulped down the water too eagerly, body shaking as he sputtered and choked.  After a few moments he was able to breathe again, and Cassandra gently lowered him back onto the furs.  Cassandra thanked him for his service, murmuring encouraging words before briefly squeezing his hand and continuing on.

Solas followed her into the chantry and through a door hidden in the recesses of the room.  Down dark stairs and towards the dungeons, musty with disuse.  It was hard for him to imagine a time when the chantry would have had need of cells in this small mountain community.  From what he could tell, travelers to this region had mostly been pilgrims, on their way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  A journey that no one would ever be able to make again, considering the fact that it had practically been blasted off the face of Thedas and the ruins were currently besieged by demons.  Cassandra strode into the dungeon and stopped outside of a small cell guarded by two humans. 

"She is in here," Cassandra told Solas tersely.  "A healer was brought in to see her, but she has been unresponsive to any efforts to wake her so far." She then addressed the taller of the two guards.  "Take his staff.  Report to me if he finds anything."

When she caught Solas's expression she arched an eyebrow. "You do not need a staff to study her mark," she said bluntly.  "Do not give me a reason to think I have misplaced my trust in you, apostate." And with that she walked out the door.

Solas was all too aware of his standing among the humans who had taken charge here.  His usefulness had yet to be proven, and that usefulness was the only thing preventing him from occupying the cell next to the one before him.  The guard opened the door, its hinges squeaking from rust and disuse.  It was an ominous screech that echoed throughout the empty chamber.  Solas stepped inside, then turned and asked for a torch before the guard had shut him in.  The human, to his credit, readily allowed him one.  His partner was a different story.  He leaned against the bars of a nearby cell, arms folded and eyes narrowed suspiciously as though he expected the elf to set the dungeon ablaze with it. 

As the lock clicked into place, Solas turned towards the woman he had come to see.  For a moment when he raised his torch he wondered if there had been some mistake.  She seemed so small…could this wisp of a woman really be the great menace the villagers had painted her to be?  Her limbs were at odd angles, as though whoever brought her here had dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor.  He knelt, wondering how much attention the healer could have really given her.  Reaching out to roll her towards him, he discovered that her wrists were enclosed within a set of heavy manacles attached to the wall.  He called to the guards to release her from her shackles, and after a few minutes' argument was able to persuade them that she was in no state to escape the cell, bound or not.  As one guard released her from her bindings, the shorter guard stood at the door with his sword to Solas's throat. 

"I'm watching you, elf.  Try anything funny and I'll kill you both on the spot."

Solas bit back a retort and nodded his acquiescence.  A familiar rage filled him, quickly stifled.  Once, he had power enough to make nations quake.  Now, though…now he was made impotent, with scarcely more power at his disposal than the average mage of this time.  It was almost comical.  Recent events, however, had put him in no mood for laughter.  When both guards had left the cell he deposited the torch into a brazier in the wall.  He knelt down, guiding her onto her back.  Lifting her arm, he confirmed what he had learned from Cassandra.  There in her palm stretched a green glowing scar.  It shined just a little brighter as it neared him.  He could feel the tug of his power there, and felt it surge as he caressed the line with his fingertips.  Long, pale fingers reflexively curled around his, and he glanced up to the woman's face for the first time. 

Grime obscured much of her features, though he could see that her cheekbones were high and prominent.  Pale lips exhaled shallow breaths, cracked and bloodless around her mouth.  Her nose was broken, dried blood fanning out from her nostrils across one cheek, and her large eyes shifted back and forth beneath her lids, one of them swollen shut and bruised.  Bruises marred the rest of her face as well, causing her skin to protrude in odd places with swelling.  Beneath the dirt and filth he could make out the dark lines of Dirthamen's vallaslin curled upon her forehead and arching across her cheeks and chin.  Her ears were hidden within the hood around her head, but her markings identified her as one of the Dalish, the only one of her kind that he had seen since coming to Haven.

He couldn't help but wonder if the bruises on her face were caused before or after she fell from the rift.  She hadn't been formally accused of anything _yet_ , probably because she wasn't conscious to hear any such implications, but he couldn't put it past the humans to have roughed her up a little in their own feeble attempts at retribution.  The thought made him bristle, and he had to tamp down the unfounded rage that rose within him.

Solas felt for a pulse on the thin wrist he was holding.  Fast but weak.  He gently lowered her hand onto her stomach and reached for her shoulder, shaking it lightly.  No reaction. 

"Can you hear me?" he asked softly, giving her shoulder another slight shake.  She remained impassive, her eyes no longer moving beneath her eyelids.  Solas asked the guards for some warm water and a cloth to clean her face with.  Without waiting for a response, he returned his attention to the mark upon her hand.

Placing his thumb upon the center of the scar, he tried pouring his magic into it.  The mark flared violently, the veins in her arms standing out a sickly glowing green against her skin as her back arched and her head slammed against the floor.  Her mouth opened in a silent scream and her eyes shot wide open, the green brightness of his power shining out of her sockets.  Solas dropped her hand like a hot stone, his heart pounding.  Her body rested on the floor once again, the mark no longer glowing.  Her breaths were heavy, panting. 

"Maker's breath!" exclaimed the guard.  "What in the bloody hell just happened?!"

"I tested the mark upon her hand with my magic.  The effect was….unexpected."

"You better not do anything like that again, elf," sputtered the guard, his bravado belied by the sword wavering in one hand. 

"I am only doing what I was brought here to do.  If you have a problem with that then I suggest you take it up with the Seeker."  Solas's patience was starting to fray.  He should have been in total control of the power residing within this woman.  Questions chased each other in his mind _.  Why?_   And perhaps more importantly _, how?_ Only one thing was sure- he had to get to the bottom of this mystery while he still had time.

 

* * *

 

 

Solas spent the rest of that day and the next trying every conceivable method he could come up with to withdraw his mark from the mysterious woman's palm. Nothing resulted in the same display that had occurred when he first attempted to activate it, but he had since adopted a somewhat…gentler approach. The results were the same, however. Nothing he tried seemed to make the mark move or lessen its grip upon her. It was, for all intents and purposes, attached. That it would kill her was unquestionable. He informed the Seeker of this, and of his suspicions that the mark was significantly linked to the breach.

As the day wore on he grew more and more melancholy. This elven woman had come to stand as a physical embodiment of all of his mistakes, of the world which would invariably come crashing to an end due to his own foolishness. She would perish, and with her the last real hope he had of closing the hole in the sky. _What will happen to my power if she dies? Would I have time to seek out alternate sources of energy? Where would I even begin to look?_  

The world had changed so much since he created the Veil. _Who knows how much of what I knew has been lost to time._  The mark was useless to him. Unlocked only to attach itself to someone who may as well be a living corpse, if her continued state was any indication. Solas had convinced the Seeker to allow the prisoner a cot and him a chair, claiming (not untruthfully) that he would have an easier time in his study of her if she wasn't crumpled upon the floor. He had tended to her wounds as best as he could with his magic, and cleaned her face and arms with the cold water the guards allowed him. She wasn't awake to complain. She now lay upon the hard, meager bench in her cell, face clean of dirt and bruises but deathly pale under her vallaslin. He had made her as comfortable as possible. It wouldn't be long now.

Sometime later Cassandra found him sitting there, head in his hands. Worry and exhaustion had taken their toll on him. He had no other options, no other avenues to explore. With reluctance he let the Seeker lead him out of the cell and away from the chantry to a modest yet cozy cabin nearby. He did not ask to whom it belonged, the thick layer of dust over everything gave it the air of a place long abandoned. Still, it was a much better accommodation than he had been expecting.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, for as she opened the door Cassandra said, "This cabin is rumored to be haunted. The locals refuse to enter the place. I assumed that with your…background in these matters, you would not have the same objections."  She cleared her throat.  "And...I do appreciate the help you have extended to us. It was either this or sharing a tent with Varric." The look on her face as she said the dwarf's name made it clear which option she found superior.

"No…I mean, yes- thank you. This will do quite well. Forgive me, the last few days have been quite trying," Solas said wearily. "Has any progress yet been made in stopping the spread of demons pouring from the Breach?"

"We are doing all that we are able," said Cassandra, "though our forces are spread thin and without relief. It seems that for every demon we strike down two more take its place."

Solas nodded, resigned. "Then tomorrow I shall set out to the temple and offer whatever help I can."

The Seeker seemed startled for a moment. "Thank you. We are in need of all the forces we can muster. But are you sure? It will be quite dangerous, especially for one with no proper military training."

He gave her a small, hard smile.

"I shall try my best."


	2. Solas's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas has a strange experience in the Fade and later gets to properly meet our favorite hirsute author, and the pair go off hunting demons in their 1967 Chevy Impala. Or on foot. 
> 
> Probably on foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with the story so far!

That night Solas walked the Fade once more. He was exhausted, truly, and should have contented himself with deep and uninterrupted rest. But he had spent the last two days sleeplessly examining the prisoner in her cell, and he had yet to properly see what things were like on _this_ side of the Breach. The outlook wasn't promising. No spirits walked here, having already been pulled through the tear in the sky or driven away by it. The landscape was even more chaotic than he was accustomed to, though within the chaos he noticed a strange pattern, as if everything around him was floating on a current, spiraling towards the breach. It almost seemed to pull him towards it as well, and he had to take deliberate steps away from it to avoid getting any closer.  Despondent, he was about to wave away the visions of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and pursue a more quiet corner of the fade when he saw a bright flash out of the corner of his eye.

He turned in that direction, searching. There, in the distance, shone a bright green light like a beacon. He walked towards it, and as he neared it he noticed that the terrain was changing. Deep teal grass poked up through the rocky ground, sporadically at first and then in abundance. Suddenly he was walking in a field of it, peppered with tiny white flowers that shone like stars. Looking around he saw that he was flanked by a grove of trees spread out on either side of him.  Slender and graceful trunks like polished bone tapered outwards into willowy branches, peppered with golden leaves that fluttered delicately to the ground.

Gone were the temple and the breach. As he approached the light it began to take on the shape of a person, and once he was only a few feet away he recognized the figure as the elven woman from the cell. She floated upright, eyes closed and body positioned as he had left her on the cot, hands folded across her chest. Only her hair moved, long tendrils flowing around her head as though caught in an invisible current. The figure was made of transparent green light, the same light he had followed here. It glowed brightest in her left hand, placed over her chest and thrumming like a heartbeat, beckoning to him. Solas took a few steps towards it then stopped, suddenly realizing he'd been moving. Closing his eyes, he cast his senses outwards from himself, searching for a demon or a spirit within the area but felt nothing, only the siren's call of the mark summoning him forward to claim it.

Power… _his_ power…and not just a reflection in the fade. Not the work of a desire demon. Not an enticing apparition meant to lower his guard.

It was so close.

He could almost……… _touch_ ……

The moment his fingers brushed against the mark the fade seemed to implode around him. The trees rushed up in his peripheral vision until he thought that they would suffocate him, and all sound stopped except for the heartbeat emanating from the mark, thundering furiously in his head. The green light consumed his body and he had it, his power was his once more and just waiting to be tapped. And then the figure's eyes opened and it took a deep shuddering breath as though it had been drowning, and everything around him rushed away and exploded like breaking glass.

 

* * *

 

 

Solas bolted upright, awake. Gone was the grove with the gilded trees and flowers like stars. Gone was the green glowing figure and his _power_ , oh his _power!_ It had been so _close_ , he had felt it within him like it had never been sealed away. He had felt whole again for one brief, fleeting moment.

He stumbled out of bed, disoriented, and promptly vomited on the floor.

Frustration gathered at the corners of his eyes and he pounded a fist against the dusty floorboards, tiny motes rising and catching in the rays of morning light shining through the window. After a few minutes he managed to calm himself, though nothing seemed to fill the empty void of despair growing inside of him. Straightening, eyes bleak, he walked slowly towards the washbasin in the corner of the room.

Empty.

Heading outside, he blinked against the light, scooping up a handful of snow to put in his mouth. He let it melt there before spitting it out along with the vicious taste of bile in his throat. The cold had a sobering effect, and he mulled over the possible meaning of what had just happened.

"Rough night?"

Solas turned towards the voice, noting the dwarf (Varric, he reminded himself) that he had often seen in the company of the Seeker. Much to the displeasure of both parties, if he remembered correctly. The man had a square jaw and an abundance of chest hair, almost flaunting it with a shirt cut almost to his navel.

 _I wonder if that's how he stays warm_ , thought Solas idly, his troubled state letting the errant thought escape to the forefront of his mind.

"It's alright, I've been there a time or two myself," continued the dwarf. "You've gotta be careful of the stuff they're serving at the tavern. Tastes horrible but at these altitudes it'll hit you twice as hard. The name's Varric, by the way."

"Solas."

He rose to his feet and started back towards his door. "Hang on a minute!" said Varric, "As stimulating as this conversation is, I didn't just come by for a friendly chat. The Seeker said you wanted to join the fight. I'm headed that way now if you want to come with me. Figured there was safety in numbers."

Solas hesitated and then nodded, his back still turned. "Give me a moment." Without waiting for an answer, he swung the door open and strode briskly inside, gathering his staff and resolving himself to the task at hand. The mystery of his dream, however pressing, would have to wait. 

 

* * *

 

The pair made their way out of Haven, past the gates and onto the mountain paths. Cold winds battered them, negating any warmth the sun might have provided.

It was a beautiful day, considering. If one overlooked the burning houses and bloody corpses occasionally found along the way. Solas had been mildly surprised to find that slowing for Varric's reduced gait was unnecessary. Not only did the dwarf manage to keep pace, he also managed to keep a steady stream of conversation going, much to Solas's chagrin.

"So how did you manage to get wrangled into this mess. Did Cassandra 'recruit' you as well?" Varric asked, and Solas thought he detected a hint of bitterness in the man's voice.

"I was nearby when the explosion at the temple happened, so I offered my services in case I might be able to help." The lie came readily, its greatest strength being its simple believability. No one, not even the spymaster, had thought to question his story. Probably helpful that there were more important matters at hand.

"Huh. Can't say if that's brave of you or just stupid. You know that this thing's only going to get worse."

"And what of you, Master Tethras? Is your participation involuntary? I see no shackles upon your wrists. Certainly, if one were planning on escaping your situation, now would seem an expedient time to do so."

Varric chuckled. "And the Seeker would be dragging me back by the short and curlies before the day was through," he said, motioning towards his chest. "No, no...I'll stay. But only because I choose to. Besides, better to die a hero than a prisoner, I suppose. At least, it looks better in writing."

"Better not to die at all," Solas intoned, deadpan. 

Varric was still laughing when the demons attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not happy with the dream sequence at the beginning, I'll probably go back and redo it eventually. Let me know what you think of this chapter!


	3. A New Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Solas meets Lira Lavellan and the group takes a field trip to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to kick some demon booty.

The onslaught seemed never ending. Solas and Varric had fought their way through throngs of demons until they encountered a rift, joining the soldiers fighting there. Just as soon as they had defeated the corrupted spirits more had been pulled through. Shrieking terrors attacked them with long razor-sharp claws, hunched over onto themselves with backs bent as though under some great strain. Demons whose form took a wispy, humanoid shape attacked them from afar, a relentless barrage of hissing energy. Solas was unsure how long they had been fighting, but fear gnawed at his gut. Varric would soon run out of bolts, and he could not drive off the remaining demons himself. Glancing around, he realized with a sense of near panic that out of the dozen or so soldiers they had joined, only two remained fighting alongside them. The others lay crumpled in the blood-splattered snow. This was madness- there was no other word for it. How could he possibly hope to solve the Breach when he couldn't close a simple rift in the Fade? He was about to call a retreat when a sizzle of energy shot past his face, striking a demon that had tried to sneak up on him while his attention was elsewhere. He turned to see where it had come from when suddenly Cassandra rushed past him, and he felt rather than saw the mage that settled in beside him, both of them focused on eradicating the latest wave of enemies. When the last one fell he turned towards the mage, to warn them that more enemies would spawn, and that they fought a losing battle. But before he could speak his attention was caught by a flash of green, and two thoughts simultaneously rushed through his mind.

_The prisoner_

and

_The mark!_

Without thinking he reached out and seized her wrist, forcing it upwards towards the sky.

"Quickly! Before more come through!"

The mark _surged_ , and the power he had channeled through his hand and into hers was flung back into him as the magic of the anchor arced towards the rift, sealing it shut with an explosion of light that left his ears ringing and the air smelling of ozone. He didn't realize that he was still holding onto the woman's wrist until it was forcefully snatched away.

She still wore the hood, and in the light of day he could see that it was embroidered along the edges with some sort of Dalish design. Peering within, he was accosted by pale eyes the color of...what, exactly? They were almost white, or gray, or maybe a pale green color, shifting like a mirror. Those eyes bore into him with equal parts confusion and hesitance.

"What did you do?"

Her voice was soft, trembling with thinly veiled exhaustion. Solas blinked, recovering quickly as he answered her. He hoped that she hadn't noticed that he had been staring. He had not seen eyes like that before, and when they were turned upon him he had the uncomfortable feeling that she was seeing _through_ him. They hadn't been that color in the Fade. In the Fade they had been a bright, glowing green, the color of the mark's power as it coursed through her, blinding…

He shook his head.  "I did nothing.  That mark upon your hand sealed the rift that produced the demons."  

She questioned him about the mark, and he answered truthfully, omitting any parts that may arouse suspicion on the parts of those gathered.  His mind wandered as she was introduced to Varric and their plans for continuing onward were made.  He tried not to dwell upon his dream.  This was the woman that he had seen, of that he was sure.  And she literally held the key to their salvation in the palm of her hand.  His power, though how it got there he could not guess.  That something had gone wrong was a given, but the fact that she was in possession of his power and not Corypheus was a small silver lining on a black cloud of misfortune.  He thought back to his plans for recovering the energy locked within the orb.  His initial designs were foiled, to be sure, but...

He peered at the elven woman out of the corner of his eye.  The crackling green of the mark cast a bright, eerie light upon her tunic as she walked, the glowing force of it only a few steps away.

Maybe...there was still hope.

 

* * *

 

 

The group made its way towards the burning remains of the Temple, through the mountain pass. The prisoner- Lira, she had called herself, had insisted upon trying to save any scouts left upon that path, though none of them could be certain as to what they may find there. Solas watched her as they made their way along the mountain. The tells were small, but there. The way she leaned just a little too heavily upon her staff. How she swayed a little on her feet when the fighting stopped. And when they reached the forward camp she had grabbed at an offered water skin like a lifeline, draining it dry in one long gulp. The woman was exhausted- when was the last time she had been given food or drink? Uncertainty started to creep into his thoughts. When the time came, would she be able to do what was asked of her?

He was in this solemn state of mind when they finally reached the temple. Once there she had stilled, and any doubts that Solas may have had about her innocence in the events at the Conclave evaporated as soon as he saw the horror written across her face. Burnt corpses littered the landscape, and she approached one of them hesitantly, dropping to her knees in front of it and reaching out with a shaking hand, stopping short of actually touching the face frozen in a silent scream, burnt skin pulled taut across blackened bone. She stood, reeling, barely listening to Cassandra as she explained how the elf had stumbled out of the rift, a ghostly woman appearing behind her in the Fade. They picked their way through the ruins, and it did not escape Solas's attention when Lira's hand darted up to her hood to quickly wipe away the tears there. If the others noticed they did not comment on it, they themselves having fallen silent in the wake of such carnage. One could scarcely step over the rubble without feeling charred bones crumble underfoot, and their mission was too important for them to linger and lament the loss of life here, not if they wanted to prevent any more of it.

Cassandra led them towards the rift marking the epicenter of the explosion. Long green tendrils of light flickered between it and the sky.

"Leliana," Cassandra addressed the woman approaching them, "Have your men take up positions around the temple." Solas regarded the spymaster with interest. From the information he had been able to gather since arriving in Haven, she and Cassandra had been acting hands of the woman Justinia, acting Divine and head of the Chantry. Powerful positions indeed. He knew the mannerisms of a spy, and had seen a fair few in his time in Haven. That they reported to Leliana was a given.

The spymaster headed towards a group of soldiers and began issuing orders. Solas redirected his attention towards Cassandra. She stood staring at the rift, jagged edges undulating with no apparent pattern.

"How do we stop this thing?" asked Lira, eyes fixated on the Breach.

"This rift is the key. Close it and it may close the Breach in the sky as well." As Solas said those words Lira turned to him, and he found himself subjected to her inscrutable gaze once more.

"Then let's go," decided Cassandra. "We have no time to waste."

The group took a side path towards the seat of the explosion, picking their way delicately through the rubble. Crystalline spires jutted out of the mountainside, glowing an ominous red. Seeing them, Varric stopped short.

"Seeker, that's _red lyrium_."

"I know, Varric."

"But what is it _DOING here_?"

Solas approached one of the spires, examining it. "Magic misplaced by the explosion could have corrupted lyrium beneath the temple, drawing it towards the surface. Though that is my best guess, I could not say with certainty what could cause lyrium to manifest itself in such a way."

Varric grabbed at his hand, before he had a chance to raise it towards the crystalline protrusions. "It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it." One look at the dwarf's face and Solas knew it would be smart to heed his warning.

Suddenly voices resounded amongst the rubble, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. One masculine,deep and booming. The other was a woman's voice, thick with a heavy Orlesian accent, begging for help. As they neared the rift the mark upon Lira's hand began to glow, shaking her entire arm with the force of its vibrations. The rift above their heads reacted to it, energy arcing between the two points, until the rift itself shuddered into a swirling mass of color.

A grim tableau of the events preceeding the Breach appeared before them. Two figures were projected in the air. One of them was a menacing mass of shadow, and it towered over the other, a woman, like a viper waiting to strike. The woman was held by glowing bonds, crying for help. All at once a vision of Lira appeared, and the woman called out to her to warn the others. The scene vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

The Seeker marched towards Lira and grabbed her arm, spinning her around as she bombarded her with questions. "You _were_ there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

"I…. I don't remember," said Lira, eyes wide, almost panicked.

 _Now is not the time_ , thought Solas. His eyes turned towards the Breach. There was only one priority here. Anything else would have to wait.

"Now, like you did before!" he shouted towards Lira. "Open it now!"

She closed her eyes and extended a shaking hand. Energy poured into the rift and it burst open, a huge shape falling to the ground and hitting with enough force to almost knock them from their feet. The figure stood, and as the green faded from its skin the true terror of its appearance began to take shape. The creature was a massive amalgamation of blue scaly skin, claws as long as a man's forearm and sharper than any sword, and six red eyes, eyes that were instantly drawn to Solas as the creature drew itself up to its full height. The deep reverberating chuckle that resonated from within its chest was meant for him, he knew, for who else in this world had ever possessed more fatally destructive pride than himself?

The creature ambled towards him, taking its time. He cast furiously, drawing on all of his energy as he tried to distract it from the fighters hacking almost uselessly at its heels. His spells bounced off of the demon, a thin shining barrier barring it from any incoming projectiles, and Solas had to leap out of the way as it lashed out at him with a whip seemingly formed of lightning. He danced around his foe, breaking a sweat as he realized that the demon was toying with him, like a bored housecat with a mouse. Out of the corner of his eye he saw other demons erupting from the rift, and a soldier fell, neck spurting blood onto the flagstones below him as the demon who felled him headed after another of the warriors.

Too late did Solas realize that the demon had him cornered, and he cast a barrier around himself just as the pride demon reared back, a crackling ball of energy held in the palm of one giant, clawed hand. He braced for impact but it never came, and when he opened his eyes the demon was on its hands and knees, stunned. Glancing beyond it, he could see Lira, face screwed tight in concentration, pulling at the rift with all of her might. The disruption had the demons dazed, swaying lifelessly for a moment, and in that instant the tide of the battle began to turn. Soldiers attacked with renewed vigor, slaying the demons almost effortlessly. The effect didn't last, but it was enough. The remaining demons were easily overcome, and Solas could see wounds along the pride demon's flank where a battered Cassandra had been hacking into it while it lay prone on the ground, her face an image of grim determination. The demon righted itself and turned towards her, its anger palpable as it unfurled a long whip of lightning, the sparks of it skittering across the ground where it landed. But before it could act, a shard of ice sailed straight for its face and the creature _howled_ , the sound drowning out all others as it clawed at its eyes. When the demon raised its head Solas could see the shard of ice protruding from one eye, dark ichor flowing down its face from the gushing wound.

"YOU!"

The demon turned towards the sound, and there stood Lira, staff pointed directly at the demon, her lips pulled back in a feral snarl.

"Na din'an sahlin!!!"

The demon howled in fury and charged at her, but she was waiting. A split second before it crashed into her she leapt nimbly aside, and it crashed into the wall, bricks tumbling and dust billowing from the collapsing structure. Solas gave it everything he had, and without the barrier provided by the rift his attacks hit home, scorching the demon as it screamed in fury, its scales turning black as its flesh burned. Lira jumped around, evading the demon with an agility he would not have thought her capable of, though he himself was running solely on pure adrenaline at that point. The creature was weakening, and in its fury it became merciless, sweeping its arms in wide arcs that crushed any soldiers too slow to move out of its path. One such unfortunate was flung into Lira as she darted back, knocking her to the ground. She had barely enough time to flinch as the demon lunged at her, its bloodied face screaming in darkest rage right before a crossbow bolt caught it between the eyes. The pride demon staggered for only an instant before its body evaporated into green light and was pulled back into the rift.

Lira scrambled forward on hands and knees, clambering shakily to her feet and raising her hand skyward. The rift responded, and the flow of power between her and it was huge, more than three times the size of what the other rifts had been. She reached up with her free hand and tried to steady her forearm as it shook wildly from the strain, the blinding glow forcing her to turn her head away. It became too much, and Solas had to shield his own eyes from the glare. The entire world was _white_ , and in the moment that the energy exploded outwards from the rift, causing such a massive boom that everyone present heard ringing in their ears through the next day, he found himself wondering if any of them would survive.

But survive they did, and as the glare diminished and his eyes adjusted, a lone figure stood in the epicenter. Lira, hand still outstretched towards the receding light of the Breach.

The rift was gone.

A great cheer went up as she lowered her arm, and she looked as though she was turning towards them but in reality she was falling, unconscious before she even hit the ground. Cassandra was the first to reach her, and Solas quickly after. He felt for a pulse, heart in his throat, as the Seeker called out orders for a stretcher and any available healers. In that moment she looked just as she had when he first saw her; hanging on by a thread and completely unresponsive to any attempts to waken her. But she had a pulse, and the mark was stable.

For the second time that day Solas let himself hope for something to end up alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is from Lira's perspective, and a new character is coming soon!


	4. Suddenly a Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lira wakes up in Haven and has a very serious discussion about her future, gets an eyeful, and is waylaid by a mischievious elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!!! Finally a chapter from Lira's POV! Not entirely happy with this chapter, might edit it somewhere down the line. Would love any CC or feedback on the story or my writing so far, thanks for reading!

Lira floated comfortably, lost in the stage of waking that was just a little bit closer to sleep than being fully aware of her surroundings. Questions danced at the edge of her consciousness, such as:

_Whose bed am I in?_

and

_Why do I hurt all over?_

For the moment though, those inquiries were playing nice with her sanity and sitting quietly in the background of her thoughts. A part of her knew that she should really, really look into answering those questions, but the part of her responsible for moving her eyelids (or arms or legs or feet, for that matter) was perfectly content to let the matter wait just a little while longer. Flashes of a dream…no, memory maybe?...flitted at the edge of her mind. Demons…a green, glowing light…blue-grey eyes, the sky on a stormy day…a wolf…

Wolf…

_Fen-_

Sudden pain shot up her arm and she cried out, sitting up in bed. Shaking, she hunched over and rode out the vicious burning, the initial wave subsiding into lesser pulses until she could catch her breath. She sat there with her chest heaving and tears at the corners of her eyes, staring blankly at the green glowing mark cutting across her left palm.  

_It wasn't a dream._

With a sudden clarity she remembered feeling the sensation before, during a long stretch in this very bed.  How long had she been in here for?  She vaguely remembered waking to the gasping pain as though from a fever dream, over and over, her body heavy and mind muddled.  Then...something...? would happen and she'd fall back into near unconsciousness. During that time the mark really hadn't hurt and had almost seemed... _dimmed..._ somehow.

Her attention was pulled away as the door opened, and Lira took her first good look at the room she was in and the elven woman entering it. The woman's head was down, but when she glanced up and saw Lira she dropped the box she was carrying in shock, eyes wide with fright.

"Are you alright?" Lira asked, moving to help but stopping short as the aches in her muscles screamed at her in protest. Now she _knew_ it had been real. She certainly _felt_ like she'd taken on an army of demons. The elven woman groveled before her, and the sudden absurdity of the last few days made Lira wonder what fresh hell awaited her on the other side of the door.

What she wouldn't give for some damn peace and solitude...

"S'ok," she muttered towards the woman as her head started to pound, waving her off. "Just go do…..whatever it is you need to." The woman had been stammering something about letting someone know she was awake…? _Cassandra._ She had mentioned Cassandra. She would be as good a place as any to start searching for some answers. Looking around the room, Lira noticed a raven locked inside a cage in the corner. It cocked its head and regarded her with its one beady eye, the other one missing with a crooked scar covering the socket. Lira got the distinct feeling that she was being judged. Crossing the room, she opened the cage and gestured towards the open window.

"Go on, friend. Back to Dirthamen with you."

The raven hopped out of its prison and alighted upon the windowsill, but made no other move to leave, turning back towards her to focus its strange, unblinking sight on her once more. Feeling slightly unnerved at this point, Lira shooed it away. As soon as she made her way back to the bed, however, the bird was back upon the windowsill, staring again.

"Have it your way, then."

_Weird old buzzard._

She sat back down on the edge of the bed and rolled first one shoulder and then the other, stretching each limb gingerly in turn before standing and making her way over to the fire. The heat took off some of the chill coming through the open window. What was the sense in lighting a fire in a room whose window had no shutter? She turned and warmed her backside, letting it get nice and toasty before reaching for the box the elven woman had carried in. Inside of it were her clothes, freshly laundered and mended. She sniffed at them and frowned. _Shem soap_. And here she thought she'd smelled the last of it. With a sigh she pulled the basin of water from its place by the fire and undressed so she could scrub at herself. No nicks and cuts to speak of, but she was covered in small bruises. Healers must be in short supply around here, she thought. She glanced around for her pack before remembering that it was still stashed up on the mountainside along with her staff, though the one she'd picked up on her way to seal the rift at the temple was there, leaning against the bed. She dressed quickly, plaiting her hair and wrapping it around the crown of her head before drawing her hood forward, all the while debating on whether or not to take the staff with her before deciding against it. If the shems had still seen her as a threat she'd be back in the dungeon, and unarmed. She would leave it be for now.

Decision made, she turned for the door. Then stopped three feet short of it and rushed back towards the staff, glancing around the room. She pulled out a corner of one of the bookshelves and hid the staff behind it. No good, too tall. A basket lay by the desk in one corner of the room, and she placed it on top of the bookshelf, effectively hiding the staff. It wouldn't hold up to a thorough search, and she wasn't entirely sure why she'd done it, but old habits died hard and it was better to have the element of surprise. Satisfied, she made her way towards the entrance, and with one last look at her brief sanctuary, she opened the door.

For a second Lira stood frozen. She had hoped to maybe slink unseen along the edges of the village in search of food, maybe find the woman Cassandra and fill in some of the niggling little gaps in her memory. See if she could leave unnoticed. What she was not prepared for was seemingly _every single person in the village_ standing outside of her door and staring at her with an almost fanatical devotion. They created a sort of blockade, and if she had been uncertain before as to which direction to go in she certainly wasn't now. As she slowly stepped forward among them the two soldiers immediately in front of her lifted their hands to their chests in salute, the sudden action causing Lira to jump backwards.

 _Foolish girl, they're not pulling weapons on you_ , she chided herself. Yet she couldn't shake the sense of unease that followed her as she made her way through the throng. It certainly didn't help matters that the path they had carved out for her lead back to the chantry, and if it weren't for the murmured voices praising her as 'The Herald' she would have thought that she was on the Din'an Shiral, walking herself straight towards the executioner's block.

When she finally reached the chantry Lira walked through the entrance as calmly as possible, unnerved by the dozens of eyes she felt on the back of her neck. Once inside she leaned against the door and let loose a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She remembered…what _did_ she remember? Waking in a cell, being interrogated and brought to crackling rifts in the Fade. Holding up her hand, Lira examined the mark there for perhaps the tenth time since waking. She closed the rifts…and fought a giant demon. Okay, she could work with that. None of it explained the cult-like following she had seemingly amassed overnight. Looking around the room, she was thankful to see that she was alone. The interior of the chantry was dark and quiet, and for a brief second Lira had the insane urge to climb up to the rafters and hide until she could figure out how to escape the building and surrounding village unseen. Tempting, but she was here for answers. Spying a door at the end of the long room, she hoped that maybe there was someone inside who could help her find them.

As she neared the door the picked up the sounds of shouting from within. She gave a quick glance around the empty room before pressing an ear against the wood, blocking out Keeper Deshanna's voice the entire time.

_If you keep listening where you aren't supposed to your ears will fall off!_

Lira shrugged off the internal monologue. Leagues away from home and Deshanna was still finding ways to guilt trip her. As she focused on the muffled conversation she came to the realization that the argument had by the people within was about _her_.

"We need to send her to Val Royeaux to await trial by the new Divine!" shouted a man's voice. "As I suggested _before_. She failed to close the Breach, Seeker, as I knew she would, and we should put her in chains before she has a chance to escape! You should know that your insubordination will be reported to the proper authority. I'll be surprised if you're able to keep _any_ position within the Seeker order after this mistake!"

Cassandra's voice rose angrily after the outburst. "I do not believe she is guilty. She has cooperated with us thus far and has gone above and beyond to help us, and I will not reward her help by shoving her back inside a cell!"

"You are in no position to make that decision!"

 _Creators_ , she was getting sick of all the suspicion. She flung open the door, heart hammering in her ears.

 _Great day to choose to be confrontational_ , she thought.

And then: _shut up, brain_.

"If you're going to decide my fate for me you could at least invite me to the party," Lira said, folding her arms over her chest and displaying a bravado that she didn't have. Chancellor Roderick…she had met him on the bridge, that's right. Still just as horrible as when she first encountered the man.

"Seize her!" he spat, levelling a finger in Lira's direction. All the bluster she had mustered up to that point flew out the window, but before she could turn tail and flee she noticed that the guards weren't really doing much of anything by way of apprehending her. Cassandra stepped forward to address them. Her gaze was stern, and Lira suppressed a shudder as she remembered their first encounter, and having that icy gaze turned on her.

"Leave us."

With a salute and a nod the soldiers left, and Lira thanked her lucky stars for strong women.

Roderick sputtered. "How _dare_ you?! You have no right!"

"More right than _you_. You're just a glorified clerk," Cassandra retorted, sneering.

 _There's no love lost between these two_ , thought Lira. Her eyes darted between the two as they argued back and forth. She had been surrounded by shems before, mostly in Wycome. It was one of the reasons she had been chosen to infiltrate the conclave- she knew how to blend in, but most importantly, how to be at ease in the presence of vast numbers of humans.

Two humans in positions of power arguing over her fate, however, was quite enough to set her on edge.

She flicked her eyes to the side, taking in the presence of three other shems occupying the room and watching the display between Cassandra and Roderick with varying degrees of patience. The redheaded woman from the dungeons and the bridge with the pretty accent and mysterious eyes. _Leliana_ , Lira thought. Easier to remember because it started with the same letter as her name. She didn't know the other two, though. There was a tall, handsome man with a scarred lip and wavy blonde hair. Most shems were too hairy or coarse for Lira's liking but this one wasn't that bad for a _human._   He carried himself like a warrior. The man caught her looking in his direction, and Lira stifled a laugh as his eyes widened and he turned his head to cough awkwardly.

A _shy_ warrior, then.

Lira then turned to the golden shine that had first attracted her eyes, magpie-like, upon entering the room. The woman was very… _soft_ looking, dressed in fabrics Lira had only ever seen on the wealthiest denizens of Wycome. Her long black hair was braided elegantly upon her head, and long curls framed her face. She held one of the oddest contraptions Lira had ever seen. It was a smooth board, with writing paper leaned against it, and a _candle_ on a small shelf protruding from the top to provide light.

Clever.

Lira's attention was jolted back to Cassandra as the woman slammed a rather large book onto the table, the sound loud in the small room.

"This is a writ from the Divine Justinia herself, granting us leave to reinstate the Inquisition of old." The woman stalked towards Roderick, who seemed suddenly small in comparison as he backed away.

"We will close the breach and find those responsible, with or _without_ your approval." As Cassandra spoke, Roderick backed over the threshold, and as she punctuated the end of her sentence by slamming the door in his face. She turned back towards the room and Leliana gave a small laugh.

"Well, Cassandra… it's a good thing we didn't have any chantry support to begin with, otherwise I'd be afraid that we had just lost it."

Cassandra sneered, though her expression was more thoughtful than angry. "He never would have given us a chance and you know it."

"I do. But the real question is where do we go from here? How can we form this organization with no troops? No leader? Chantry approval is the least of our worries at this juncture." The redhead said the last softly, tracing a reverent finger along the raised pattern on the top of the book upon the table.

"Forgive me," said Cassandra, finally seeming to remember that Lira was there. "There are introductions that need to be made. You remember Leliana?" At Lira's nod she continued. "This is Knight Commander Cullen. He will be leading the Inquisition's forces."

The man with the blond hair stepped forward and gave her a nod. "A pleasure."

"And this," resumed the Seeker, gesturing in the dark-haired woman's direction, "Is Lady Josephine Montilyet of Antiva. She has offered her services as acting ambassador for the Inquisition."

"A good thing, too!," quipped Leliana with a smile. "Lest we be forced to depend on _you_ to fill that role, Cassandra."

The Antivan stepped forward and gave a small bow. " _Andaran atishan_ , Lavellan."

Lira's eyes widened and her lips tugged upwards at the corners.

"You speak _e_ _lvhen_?"

"You've just head the entirety of it, I'm afraid," shrugged Josephine, giving her a friendly smile before returning to making notes. Lira forced herself to pull her gaze from the woman and her dress, its smooth golden color the brightest thing here in this room without windows. Her eyes swept across the room once more before landing on Cassandra's, who- she was surprised to find- was staring at her rather intently.

"The Breach still threatens all of us. Now that you've seen what is at stake, what will you do? Will you stay and join us?"

"Do I really have an option?" joked Lira a bit meekly, and the small smile that had pulled up one corner of her mouth fell a little from the weak chuckles she got from the room.

"I…," Lira started, voice faltering a little when she realized that everyone in the room was now giving her their undivided attention, gazes expectant. This was all too much, too sudden. She needed time to think, to evaluate the situation.  She wasn't even entirely sure _what exactly was_ _going_ _on_.  Swallowing, she fidgeted with her hands and picked at her fingernails.  The realization that she was a stranger in a strange land reared its ugly head once more and hit her full-force.  She was, for all intents and purposes, alone here.

 

"...what if I were to refuse?"

 

The reactions to her query were mixed. Cassandra's eyebrows scrunched together just a little deeper than they had been before. Cullen folded his arms over his chest and gave her an assessing look. Only Leliana and Josephine appeared unperturbed, the latter turning back to make even _more_ notes with that silly feather she was writing with.

Leliana held up a hand. "You are free to leave if you wish. However, do not think that your actions here have gone unnoticed. Word of you has already spread, and Roderick is not the only one who still believes you culpable in the death of Divine Justinia. If you run it will cement your guilt in the minds of those who would place all of the blame at your feet. I would not be surprised if a plan was already being set in motion to apprehend you and bring you to justice. Certainly anyone who managed to do so would use the opportunity to further their own political power. If you go…if Templars are sent to find you, how long do you think it will be before they start looking for you amongst any Dalish clan they can find? How well do you think the interrogations will go, and how long before they start trying to round up any woman who bears the slightest resemblance to you? The Dalish would never allow it, and it would escalate into a bloodbath. And an excuse to spin the events at the Conclave into an elaborate plot by your people."

Lira stood in stunned silence as the woman walked slowly around the table, eyes never leaving hers. "Stay and you can help us right the wrongs that have been started here. There are more breaches out there, and your mark is the only thing proven capable of closing them. Work with us. Cassandra and I were the Hands of the Divine, and are acting upon her authority. Helping her cause, being seen with us…it will go a long way towards proving your innocence to those who do not know what to believe."

Standing in front of her, Leliana gently took Lira's hand in her own. "You are, for all intents and purposes, a marked woman." She gently turned her palm over, the green glow illuminating her face as she spoke. "I believe that it is a sign from the Maker, that you have been chosen to help us."

Lira closed her fist and pulled it out of Leliana's hands, cutting off the otherworldly glow and plunging Leliana's face into shadows in the dim light of the room. "I don't believe in your _Maker_ , so I don't really care _what_ you believe his plans for me are. And all of this 'Herald of Andraste' foolishness…I won't be used like a puppet to try and win over the support of the Chantry for your Inquisition."

She saw Cassandra move out from behind Leliana's back. "For all we know it was one of your Elvhen gods who gave you that mark," said the Seeker, squaring her shoulders. "Regardless of where it came from, divine or no, it is a tool that can be used to help restore order to the world. You saw what those demons were capable of. Would you leave the fates of countless innocents to those monsters, when you are the only one who can stop them?"

Lira sighed and rubbed her hands over her face. "I didn't say I wouldn't stay and help." She looked then, catching each of their gazes with steely eyes- even Leliana, who had stepped back closer to the brazier in the wall. "But I will _not_ be paraded around as something I'm not. And I will follow no one's orders but my own."

The humans all shared glances at each other, silently mulling it over and communicating with just their eyes. It was Cullen who finally spoke.

"Very well, but don't consider this a free pass to just do whatever you please. I don't know how things are done among the Dalish, but here there are certain… _societal_ rules you will be expected to adhere to. If you commit any crimes, such as _stealing_ , it will only cause more trouble for you."

Lira's eyes widened to the point of bulging out of her head and her teeth gritted into an almost feral snarl. "I will keep that in mind, _Commander_ ," she said, voice dripping indignant poison. She flung the door open and stalked out of the room, not even registering the voice of the Antivan woman loudly chastising Cullen for _his_ _horrible breach of etiquette_.

She stepped briskly through the dark interior of the chantry, ignoring the few timid souls who had thought to catch a glimpse of her or speak to her by entering the building. Luckily though, life seemed to have gone back to some semblance of normality outside of the chantry's doors, for when Lira stepped outside the previous throng of people had dispersed. She briefly considered going back to the small building she had woken up in, if only for some solitude, but her anger carried her feet in the opposite direction as her mind seethed, turning the conversation she'd just had over and over in her mind.

_Stealing?!_

She had known better, of course.  The year spent in Wycome had taught her well enough how humans viewed her kind.  The request for her help had come couched between veiled threats and manipulation, and then to be warned not to steal like she was some low-life criminal with sticky fingers!  She hadn't asked to be here, for _any_ of this, and considering the fact that she had chosen to stay and help she felt as though she was owed at least a little _credit,_ if not a little _trust._

 

 _"_ _Fenedhis!"_

 

Still lost in her thoughts, she glanced towards the shouting voice and did a quick double take at the sight of a very angry, very _half-naked_ elf standing at the window of one of the small buildings nearby.  She could see the lean muscles of his torso, the tautness of his belly trailing down in a deep V towards low-slung breeches tied loosely around his hips.  Her eyes shot back upwards as she realized that she had been _ogling_ him, and she blinked in surprise when she caught his furious expression, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.  She had just enough time to register a scowling face and furrowed brow as he slammed the shutters closed, and in that instant she remembered his name.

_Solas._

Realizing that she had stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of him, Lira resumed walking, albeit at a much less agitated pace.  Her eyes drifted back towards his window.  _Who would have known that he was hiding that body underneath those clothes?_ The idle notion was suddenly disrupted as someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side, and as she stumbled she realized that she had very nearly walked straight into the sign for the tavern.  _Well that would certainly put this Herald nonsense to rest, seeing me knock myself out on a damned signpost,_ she thought.  She turned to thank the person who still had a firm grip on her arm and found herself facing a grinning elf dressed in garish colors, whose choppy blonde hair looked as though it had been attacked by a badger.

"Oy, are you daft?  Could've seen that a mile away," the woman said, cocking her head to the side.  "Waaaait, I know you!  You're that Herald thingy.  Pretty important to be walking into stuff like an idiot.  Good thing I saved you, would've had a nasty headache.  I'm Sera."  The elf dropped Lira's arm and crossed her own arms over her chest. "What're you waltzing about all la-dee-dah for anyways?  Got more _interesting_ things to look at than where you're going?"  Her teasing expression let on that she knew _exactly_ what had been so distracting.

Lira frowned, suddenly remembering the conversation that had sent her off in this direction in the first place.  "Thank you, for your help."  She let out a long breath.  "Sorry, I've just been having a bad day."

Sera giggled and put her hands on her hips. "Well I've got just the thing for that! C'mon." She turned back towards the tavern and Lira found herself shaking her head.

"I'd rather not right now, but thanks anyways. I'm not actually a fan of human ale," Lira called after her, pulling her hood back into place over her head, the small tug to the side having sent it askance.

"Not that, though that would've been my second choice," said Sera.  Her eyes practically twinkled.

"I've got something even better in mind!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! Cullen may have put his foot in his mouth a little there, but he didn't mean it like that, promise. And I decided to bring in Sera early as a nice change of pace from the vanilla storyline. More on what she's doing in Haven later on, and what's gotten Solas so riled up? Find out next time!


	5. The Wrong Side of the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas sets things on fire and sets out to earn some coin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! More to come soon, though. Had to get this baby one out of the way.

The air inside Solas's cabin was acrid with the scent of burnt linens.  What had been a peaceful afternoon foray into the fade had quickly turned into a fiery panic as one outstretched arm knocked the staff by his bedside over, causing an unfortunate domino effect upon a nearby chair, flinging his tunic just a little too close to the fireplace.  The clatter had awoken him, and it was in a half-awake daze that he watched the backside of his tunic catch on fire, his mind processing the stream of information a few seconds after it actually occurred.  So it was with a tangle of tired limbs and bedsheets that he fell from his bed once the concepts of _fire_ and _not in fireplace_ made their way through his sleep-addled mind.  He managed to put out the almost insignificant blaze, but the damage had been done and he was left with a four inch hole burnt into the lower back of his only spare shirt, and the pungent smell of burnt wool to boot.

Grumbling and scowling, he opened the shutters over his window, perhaps a bit too forcefully, for when they swung inwards they deposited fresh piles of snow onto his feet.  He let out an exasperated curse just as a brilliant flash of white drew his attention outside, and he looked up to see the Dalish woman - _Lira_ , he reminded himself- staring at him from the small courtyard.  Her hood had fallen back from the crown of her head to reveal a finger's width of hair so dazzlingly white it rivaled the snow accumulated upon the eaves of the building behind her.  Solas realized two things simultaneously: that he had never actually seen her hair before, and that her eyes were trailing languidly down his chest to his stomach.

And then down _further._

Her eyes snapped up towards his and she had the audacity to _blush_ , as though she hadn't just been unabashedly leering at his…well…

The shutters banged against the window frame as he hastily threw them shut, all of the cold sensation from the snow at his feet eclipsed by the sudden warmth pooling in his loins _.  It has been a very long time indeed_ , he mused, adjusting the slight tightening in his leggings and mentally willing his focus back to the matter at hand.  The tunic was ruined but he decided to hold onto it anyways, the unburnt cloth could be repurposed.  He opened the shutters on the rear window, carefully this time, in an attempt to rid the small room of smoke and the smell of burnt wool.

The Dalish woman was a mystery.  Who was she, really?  He had no idea why she had been at the Conclave to begin with.  She claimed not to know, but was that the truth?  He could still see her in his mind's eye, a dark silhouette against the exploding radiance of the rift at the Temple.  His body had thrummed with the energy surging from the mark on her hand, greedy for the power that it had once possessed.  This world was dull, and he was made dull with it.  His steps felt heavier, the air thicker.  To see her struggle to wield the immense power that was once his, to have it _so close_ and yet so inaccessible…

It made him want to scream.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes.  There was nothing to be done for it at the moment.  All he could do now was wait, and try to find a way to take back what was rightfully his.  Donning his one remaining tunic, he sat upon the bed and counted the small amount of coin he had left available to him.  Enough for a new tunic, though he would probably just buy some cloth and make his own to save money. He was reluctant to spend any more money than was absolutely necessary.  One never knew when he might need to make a swift exit, and the more coin he had if the time came, the better.  Remembering that the healer, Adar, had offered coin in exchange for elfroot, he opened his satchel of herbs and began to take inventory.

"Aye, I'll take any elfroot you can find," Adar had told him, not looking up from the potion recipe he was studying.  "Embrium, too.  Hell, bring me anything you find and I'll see what I can make work.  Requisitions officer gave me some money to replenish the potion stores but it'll be at least a week before the scouts return from the Hinterlands with fresh supplies.  I'm sure she'd pay you for any meat you can come up with, if you're looking to make some coin.  Lots of hungry mouths and most people that know how to hunt were injured fighting those demons."

The only meat he had was from his own dwindling stock of provisions, thin strips of ram jerky he had cured himself before coming to Haven.  But he had enough elfroot to buy some cloth, he thought.  Then, considering the scarcity of supplies after the conclave, reluctantly added his remaining stores of crystal grace and royal elfroot to the pile.  It would have to do.

Stepping out from the dim interior of his cabin, his eyes were momentarily blinded by the glare of the noonday sun on the snowdrifts piled against the buildings around him.  He tried hard not to think of the color white...and eyes whose color he still could not put a name to.


	6. A Terrible Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sera causes mischief and the Herald does not approve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, more to come soon!

"Over here, c'mon!"

 Sera practically dragged Lira towards Adan's hut, though instead of going in she led them around the side of the building.

 "Right, so here's what you're gonna do- and listen, this is important, yeah?"

 Lira nodded, puzzled.  This wasn't exactly what she had been expecting.  Though, to be fair, she wasn't exactly sure what that was to begin with.

 "I need you…," continued Sera gravely, "to go in there and distract him."

 Lira blinked.  "Distract who?"

 "Who d'ya think?!  The healer!"  Sera clambered onto a wooden crate on the side of Adan's house and pulled herself quickly up onto Adan's rooftop.  Lira could only stare after her, mouth agape.  Only when Sera leaned over the edge of the roof and made dismissing motion with her hand did Lira move.  Convinced that she was probably about to make a horrible mistake in trusting the blond elf, she knocked on Adan's door.

  _Distract him_?  Lira thought.  _Distract him from what, exactly?_

 Half a second after her third knock the door swung violently inwards.  Adan stood in the doorway, and he wore the scowl of someone who had been interrupted doing something important.

 "Yes?" he asked, voice clipped.  Lira stared dumbly at him, at a loss for words.  Inwardly her mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible excuse as to why she should be there. 

 "Well, what is it?" Adan huffed.  When Lira still hadn't said anything he stepped back, and Lira had the distinct impression that he was going to shut the door in her face.  But as he turned to grab the edge of the door Lira saw a thin elven arm sneak in through the window, groping blindly at a bundle of elfroot drying above the stove.

 "Ow," mumbled Lira, grabbing his arm.

 "What?" questioned Adan, eyebrows furrowed as he turned back towards her, snatching his arm from her grip.

 Lira grabbed her left hand and doubled over a little.

 "Owwwwwwwwuhh."

 "What's wrong with you?" said Adan.  _This guy could really work on his bedside manner,_ thought Lira glumly.

 "It…it _hurts."_ she said, massaging her palm.  Adan was still glaring at her.  She was beginning to lose her nerve.  "I, uh, didn't know what else to do so I came to you," she explained lamely.

 "I don't know why you're coming to me about it," he said, turning away.  "That apostate elf is the one who fixed you up last time.  Go see him."

 "Wait!" cried Lira, shoving her foot in the door before he could close it.  "My stomach hurts, too."

 Adan looked her over scrutinizingly for a few very long moments.  "Well come in then," he sighed.  "Lean over the bed and drop your pants."

 "WHAT?!" shouted Lira, backing away.

 "Well the only thing that I have for you right now is embrium, and the only way you're going to cure a stomachache with that is the rear way."

 Lira backed away slowly and turned to run from the healer's hut, Sera be damned; only to collide with the person standing a few feet behind her.  They fell, and Lira had just enough time to register a surprised pair of blue eyes before she ended up laying face-first atop a warm, rather broad-shouldered body.  She blushed as she realized who she had knocked over in her haste, rolling off of him and away from the tantalizingly masculine scent of his chest.  "I am…. SO sorry," she muttered, cheeks red.  The vision of his naked torso refused to leave her mind.

 "Please do watch out," said Solas coolly, brushing himself off as he stood.  She did not meet his eyes as she raced down the path and out of sight.  She doubled back around the bar and approached Adan's from the back, hugging the rock wall until she reached the wooden crates she'd seen Sera use to reach the rooftop.  Hoisting herself up, she was greeted by the blond elf herself, smiling like the cat who caught the canary and proudly holding out a fistful of elfroot leaves towards her.

 "Nicely done, that.  Well, could have been better, but got the job done, dinnit?  This is your share, by the way," she spoke in an excited whisper, pressing the bruised leaves into Lira's palm before sitting back and rolling her own leaves into a tight cylinder.  She patted herself down and held out her hand to Lira.  "Got a flint?"

 Lira smacked her hand away.  "What were you _thinking?"_ she hissed, still stung by the anger and humiliation of her encounter with the healer.

 Sera scowled.  "Wot?  Ain't nothin' wrong with it.  Don't be snooty, thought you Dalish were all about getting' back to nature and stuff."

  "These herbs are for people who are sick and in _pain_ ," admonished Lira.  She cringed a little, inwardly.   _Way to sound like a  stuck-up goody-two-shoes._

 "Hey, I've got pain!" scoffed Sera.  "In fact, I suddenly have a giant pain in my arse."  She thrust the rolled up elfroot into her pocket.  "Besides, Adan's a leech- charges too much and everyone knows it.  He can afford to donate some root for the cause."  Sera said the last bit defensively, crossing her arms and staring at Lira as though daring her to argue. 

 Lira stared back, unflinching.  "If I'd known what you were doing I wouldn't have agreed to help you," she said, mentally noting that she hadn't really had a chance to agree or disagree to much of anything, "You should have been up front with me."

 Sera rolled her eyes.  "Wha'ever."  She turned and clambered off of the roof, leaving Lira alone.  Lira sat on the roof, shivering from the chill breeze and staring at the crumpled elfroot leaves in her hands.  It wasn't as though she hadn't ever stolen anything before.  Whether it was on a dare or from being truly in need, she'd pilfered her fair share in her time.  But never from healers.  Adan was an ass but there were people who needed this, and there was a significant amount of it… could she put it back?  Without being seen?  It would be a challenge, if not downright impossible.  Lira briefly considered waiting until nightfall to try, but who knew if the window would still be open then?  Or she could leave the leaves on his doorstep, but who knew what other unscrupulous characters might just grab them and make a run for it?  No, it had to be done here, she decided.  If nothing else she could just drop them through the window and run.

  _Guess it's now or never,_ she thought to herself.  She crawled to the edge of the rooftop and peered down towards the open shutters.


	7. Spies and Plots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we learn the hard lesson that clumsy elves should probably avoid eavesdropping.

Any effort on Solas's part to not think of the mysterious Dalish woman was quickly undermined when he came upon her standing in Adan's doorway.  The man wore an expression of resigned irritation, and though he couldn't see her face Solas noted that the Dalish woman had her foot in the doorway.

He stood a few feet back, pointedly looking away as the pair concluded their business.  Nevertheless, he couldn't help a surprised glance in Adan's direction as he heard- no, he must have misheard- surely he didn't just suggest to the supposed _Herald of Andraste_ to shove embrium up her-

 _Perhaps I did not mishear after all_ , he thought, staring up at the sky from his place on the ground.  The woman had run straight into him in her effort to get away from the -rather salacious- advice of the healer, knocking them both over in her haste.  Without meaning to he had reached up to catch her as they fell, holding her tightly as they hit the snow.  For a moment she lay warm and soft in his arms, smelling of honey and something heady that he could not put a name to. Suddenly she was straddling his torso, pushing down on his shoulders as leverage to stand.  Their eyes met for a moment as she pushed away- Solas just barely caught the bright pink hue across her face and the round "O" of surprise on pouty lips.  He straightened himself and brushed the snow from his clothes, bright spots of color flushing his cheeks. 

"Please do watch out," he said, clearing his throat.  Lira muttered an apology and raced away towards the bar.  Solas followed her with his gaze for a moment before turning towards Adan.

"Are you open for business?"

The healer narrowed his eyes.  "Depends," he said gruffly.  "What do you want?"

"I have some herbs to sell, if the offer still stands."

Adan glanced back into the dark interior of his hut.  "Yeah, I guess.  Give me a second."  He shut the door without waiting for a reply, and Solas waited for him patiently, ears picking up the sounds of muttering and banging from behind the door.  Adan opened it after a few minutes and gestured Solas inside.

"So, what do you have for me?"

Solas dug in his pack, producing the herbs he had picked out for the healer.  They were half-crushed from where he had fallen upon them, and looked like a sad selection indeed.  Two of the crystal grace blossoms were half-destroyed, the petals no doubt lying at the bottom of his satchel.  The rest hung limp and half dead from his outstretched hand.

Adan furrowed his brow.  "Got anything not mauled by a bear?"

A muscle in Solas's cheek spasmed.  "They were perfectly fine until I was knocked into by that Dalish girl.  Excuse me for saying, but if you had not suggested such a …lewd… method of treatment, then my property may have made its way to you intact."

The healer looked at him with an odd expression of cross embarrassment before snatching the herbs from Solas's hand.  "I didn't mean it.  What I said.  Just trying to get rid of her."

He turned his back to Solas and made room on the table to lay out the plants, dividing them into separate piles.

"What was it that she was wanting?" asked Solas, idly looking around the room.  There was no sign of whatever it was that Adan seemed so keen to hide.

"Nothing good," muttered Adan distractedly, holding the stalk of royal elfroot up for inspection.

"Then she wasn't here seeking medical attention?" asked Solas.

"Said her hand was botherin' her, but she was lying… badly.  I know the type.  Make up all sorts of ails trying to get somethin' from you, just trying to get a fix.  Shifty knife-ears."  He glanced up at Solas and cleared his throat.  "Well… present company excluded."

Solas bristled.  It wasn't as though he hadn't heard such misgivings before.  But to have them thrown about so easily before him, as though he were not an elf himself- as though he had not been considered to be one of the most powerful beings to ever walk this land!  Adan had no way of knowing who he was talking to, of course.  And no way of knowing just how grand the Elvhen had been in their time.

 _You stupid, foolish man…_ thought Solas.  _Spewing your ignorance as casually as one would remark upon the weather!_

Adan held out a few coins towards Solas, pointedly ignoring the elf's frosty demeanor.  "I mean… you're not like the other ones.  You're right civilized.  Her and that blond one both tried to get something off me today.  Just makes a man sick of dealing with it."  When Solas didn't move to take the money he grew flustered, going back to his coin box.  "Was that _royal_ elfroot in there?  Ah, yes, here's a few extra coins for you, that's hard to come by."  Adan held out the coins, now much more substantial, towards Solas.  A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as Solas continued to stare at him.  Something about the bald elf's presence seemed suddenly stifling in the small room, and Adan realized belatedly that bribing him may not be the best idea to get Solas to forgive his insult.

"Is this a bad time?"

The two men turned in the direction of this new voice.  Leliana leaned against the open doorframe.  It was not apparent how long she had been standing there, and Solas forgot his momentary ire at the healer as he realized in amazement that she had snuck up on him. 

That was _not_ an easy thing to do.

Leliana raised an eyebrow and looked between the two men with a small smile.  Adan's hand was still outstretched towards Solas, clutching the coins as though they were a talisman to ward off the elf's anger.

"If you are finished with your business, there is something that I had wished to speak to you about."

Solas took the offered coins and turned to leave.  "I'll be on my way then."

"Actually, Solas," said Leliana, "It was you whom I wished to speak to."

"Oh?  And how may I be of service?"

"I just wanted to check up on you, see how you've been faring.  I don't think we've had much of a chance to speak with all of the excitement going on around here."

Solas clasped his hands behind his back and inclined his head.  "I am humbled.  I would have thought that a spymaster would have had more pressing matters to attend to, though I am touched by your concern."

Leliana smiled.  "Part of what makes me successful at what I do is knowing my allies, as well as my enemies.  So tell me, Solas- what is there to know about you?"

"There is not much to tell, I'm afraid.  My life up until this point has been rather uneventful.  I grew up in a small mountain village a day's ride from Ansberg, near Antiva.  My parents were shepherds, and died when I was a young man.  I had no interest in tending sheep myself, so I sold our flock and meager possessions and have since spent my days journeying in solitude, exploring the histories of the places I travel to in the fade."

"That hardly sounds like an uneventful life to me, Solas.  More like a grand adventure."  As she spoke, Solas noticed Leliana's eyes quickly flicker to the window past his shoulder, and then towards Adan.

He casually leaned back against a shelf, purposely bumping a bowl with his elbow and causing it to fall.  As he turned to catch it he glanced towards the window.  There was nothing there but a few bundles of drying elfroot, one of which was swaying gently back and forth in the breeze from the window.  Adan had his back turned to them, doing a poor job of pretending he wasn't listening in on their conversation.

Solas straightened. "Yes, well…the subjects of my studies are certainly exciting, though I would maintain that I myself am not.  The life of an apostate is best suited to those who do not call attention to themselves."

The sly smile on Leliana's face told him that his maneuver had not gone unnoticed.  "A skill that you must have certainly mastered long ago, having avoided the templars for as long as you have."

"A good apostate is a master of misdirection."

Leliana once more looked over his shoulder and let loose a tiny laugh.  "Some more than others, it would seem."

Nonplussed, Solas continued, "Take our friend the herald.  How was she not caught by the templars at the temple?  Even disguised as a mage she would have been identified by her Dalish markings.  One wonders how she was able to escape detection at such a heavily guarded gathering."

"I would be interested in knowing that myself.  Unfortunately we may never know.  She was the only survivor, and apparently does not remember the events that took place that day."

"So she claims," interjected Solas, "Whether or not her word is to be trusted has yet to be seen."

"That is true," Leliana conceded.  "Though there are many here whose motives have yet to be determined."  She paused, staring once more at the window.  This time he resisted the urge to turn and look.  _What is it that she's looking for?_ Adan remained in the corner, shuffling papers and pretending to ignore them.

"However," Leliana continued, "So far we have no reason to mistrust her.  She has offered us what help she can, and fought by our side.  I do not think that she is here under false pretenses.  In fact, I think it is much more likely that she is a victim of circumstance, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  For now," at this she turned towards Adan,  who was still pointedly looking away, "I would urge everyone to give her the benefit of the doubt.  I think she may surprise us all."

 Solas inclined his head.  "Forgive me, I did not mean to sound accusatory, only cautious.  I… have had dealings with the Dalish before.  They live by their own rules, and rarely respond to reason.  If she is, indeed, an innocent bystander, then it is a shame that she has become caught up in all of this.  The power contained within the mark on her hand must be a heavy burden."

"One that is killing her, is it not?  That is, after all, what you had reported to Cassandra.  Is there nothing that can be done to help her?" questioned Leliana.

"I have done all that I can to prevent the mark from spreading, for now." Solas frowned.  "There…may be a way to remove it permanently, but…"

"But?"

Solas shook his head.  "It is possible that we may direct the power into an artifact, some object that could withstand a great amount of energy.  An enchanted amulet, perhaps, or some other talisman.  However, the process would most certainly destroy her hand, if not take her life outright."

"I might be able to obtain such an item, if I knew more details.  Are you sure that her hand would not be able to be saved?" asked Leliana.

"I am confident.  Even with the help of countless other mages of skill, of which we are now in short supply, her hand would be forfeit.  It would be all we could do to save her life.  And even that possibility is only hypothetical."

The spymaster nodded, staring into the distance.  "And the mark is already killing her…"  She stopped, reflecting a bit before continuing, "So you really believe that it can be done?  That the power within the mark can be stored within another vessel?"

"It is only a theory, but…yes, I do think so.  It will require more research on my part.  Nothing like this has ever been done before," said Solas with a shrug.

"Alright then.  Continue your research, and keep me updated.  We may one day have need of-" Leliana's words were cut off by the sound of something sliding heavily down from the roof and onto the boxes outside.  All three of them raced outside, only to find the bearer of the mark herself, wincing in pain.  One hand was busy rubbing a bruised backside and the other was clutching a bundle of dried elfroot.

" _Thief!  Thieeef!!!_ " cried Adan, "Sodding elves, I _knew_ it!!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter (or two, might split it up into two parts) should be out this weekend so keep an eye out! And Lira and Solas's first *real* conversation, aside from their initial introduction. As always I would love any criticism or critique you guys can give me, I want this story to be fun for you to read!


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